Janet picked up Esquire's little novelty book Things a Man Should Never Do Past 30 last weekend for a buck, so I immediately went looking for their rules that I've broken.
My 43 sins and transgressions against adult manliness, after the jump...
Wear ironic baseball caps (John Deere, CAT) unless he actually operates heavy machinery for a living. I have a "Sell Me to D&T Livestock" hat with a pig on it, I got it back in 1980, and I'll wear it from time to time because it's so incredibly broken in.
Make an ass-related pun about the colon or semicolon. OK, nobody's perfect...
Use sports metaphors for sex, as in, "Rita and I are ready to start a family, so she pulled the goalie." I can't remember specific instances, but some of these are just too much fun to pass up, because they just sound so dirty if you've got the right mindset: three-point play, stealing home, yada yada yada...
Use sex metaphors for sports. I'll admit that several years ago I used to tell Dallas fans that the Cowboys should sign Linda Lovelace to play quarterback, because while she might blow a few, at least she wouldn't choke on the big one. Whether or not Linda would have been able to get a clean hold on an extra point is another matter entirely.
Use more than one exclamation point in a row. Bite me, Esquire!!!
Refer to attractive mothers as "Milfs." Well what do you want me to call them, then?
Wear flip-flops to an office function. Hello, I live in Charleston. Friends of ours got married on Folly Beach in tuxedos and flip-flops. In certain months, flip-flops are business casual here.
Listen to Widespread Panic. To quote the Mooninites: We do whatever we want, whenever we want, at all times.
Let his underwear show above his pants or below his shorts. The worst part is, I don't do it intentionally.
Do impressions of Austin Powers characters, especially Dr. Evil. Oh come on! No Dr. Evil? That seems a bit harsh.
Use Dial soap as shampoo. Well duh. When you've got a buzz cut, you use bar soap. And I've got two default haircuts: Ponytail or buzzcut.
Put his face between a woman's breasts and make a gurgling motorboat sound. Don't knock it until you've tried it.
Arm wrestle in public. And this sucks, too: Last time I did it was about two years ago, and I lost.
Open a beer with anything other than a bottle opener. These guys are just jealous because they can't pop a cap with the edge of a countertop.
Wear swim trunks as an underwear substitute. Clearly, these yuppies don't live near a beach.
Own a futon. Hey, it cost me $75 and it was my only piece of furniture for a while.
Own a lava lamp. We also have a globe with this gas in it that makes electric currents look like lightning. Wicked cool.
Share a hotel room with someone you aren't sleeping with and did not father. I barely missed the age-30 cut-off on this one, but, in point of fact, I did share a hotel room with David Prather at a North Carolina Press Awards get-together in 1993. And I had to endure seeing him in his whitie-tighties, in the morning, whilst battling an epic hangover. So while I've broken this rule, I don't disagree with its wisdom.
Play fantasy sports. Makes me think these writers are French or something. All American men play fantasy sports, and everybody knows that.
Divide a restaurant bill with a friend in any way other than 50-50. Please. I order the salad and he orders the steak? We're not averaging that one, buddy.
Wear a jersey with the name of a professional athlete on the back. Taylor, Thomas, Pennington, Urlacher.
Use Internet acronyms, particularly ROFL and LOL. KMA, OK?
Fall asleep in public. Too many meetings, not enough coffee.
Eat cottage cheese. I don't particularly like it, but sometimes it's just... there.
Skip. I'm 43 years old and I've had more injuries to my knees, ankles and feet than anyone would care to have me list. So if I feel like skipping (and can physically accomplish the feat), then I'm by-gawd skipping.
Eat tuna straight from the can. It's better for you without the extra stuff, and sometimes you just want that protein. Of course, your co-workers will complain. A lot.
Look up any dirty word in a dictionary. Technically, I haven't. But if you change it from "dictionary" to "Wikipedia?" Guilty.
Boogie board. I can't do it now, because there's not a board on earth that would support a 250-pound guy, but yes, in my 205-pound days, I did...
Brag about how much he can bench. I apologize, alright? It just a phase you go through when you were raised a 95-pound weakling.
Cheer drunken brawls. I like the drunken ones best, actually.
Go commando. Get this: Some chicks dig it.
Wear a tank top anywhere but to the gym. It's 100 degrees and 100 percent humidity here in the summer. You're lucky I don't wear a tank top to work.
Smoke cloves. My ex-wife told me they were non-addictive.
Wear camos to work (unless he's in the military). I used to be in the military. Does that count?
Grow a ponytail. Ibid.
Write his name in the snow with urine. "Dan" is easy. "Daniel" is more of a challenge, particularly if you dot the i. "King Dan the Ladies' Man" I haven't accomplished. Yet.
Call "shotgun" before getting into a car. Actually, I prefer to reference that position by its proper military terminology: "Vehicle commander."
Attempt to cut his own hair. Two things: I can do it, and I'm cheap.
Write anything on a bathroom wall. I write "Xark," and it's buzz marketing, so get off my back.
Drink wine from a box. If there's no beer, and the wine at the party is box wine, then you're rude not to.
Wear a baseball cap backwards, sideways or slightly off-center. There's a complex language and interplay in the wearing, selection and breaking in of ballcaps. You wouldn't understand.
Not vote. OK, I admit, this was wrong. But I was doing everything I could to make myself into the ultimate impartial political journalist. But being a journalist is like being a male interior designer. No matter what you are, people are gonna believe what people are gonna believe.
Sneak alcohol into a movie theater. Actually, I haven't done this since high school, but we just bought this bitchin' 3-ounce hip flash, and I am SO bringing the booze on our next flick night.
I can't wait until I get my own vcast. I mean it.
Posted by: Janet Edens | Friday, February 09, 2007 at 09:39
The Blues Bash last Sunday had three great performers at the Isle of Palms Recreation Center. We had a good time.
They sold cookies, hot dogs and ...cans of coke.
One pewter flask dates back to the 1920s, is curved for the hip and holds 4 ozs. The other holds 6ozs, is chrome-shiny and came from Wal-Mart. Recently.
Posted by: Chuckography | Wednesday, February 14, 2007 at 09:22